The Savannah tribune. [volume] (Savannah [Ga.]) 1876-1960, 1887-08-27

1ngs anu rougn lOg CABINS, standing
around a weedy square shaded by great
oaks, beneath which the dozen or more
COWS Of the place gathered on warm days
to chew the cud and wait for milking
zine, while lean, lank, black hogs roamed
at will through the stony, hilly street
running around the square. There were
no pavements, nor even board walk,
and on the low, sagging porch of the
principal store, the men of the village
regularly assembled every day, to smoke,
to tell long stories of bear and wolf
hunts, and discuss the news in the weekly
papers. They seemed to young Howard
Hilton-who was all spirit and energy
utterly without enterprise or ambition,
and he resolved to wake them up little.
To this end he proposed tournament,
offering a prize Of twenty-five dollars to
the successful competitor; and was
pleased with the excitement which at
once took possession Of the whole vii
lage.
On every side he heard the name of
young Dave Fielder, and it seemed to be
conceded that he would be the one to
carry off the prize. The only horse that
could compare with Judy in speed, and
be relied upon not to swerve in astraight
course, was big black animal belong
ing to Sam Breen, an old man who had
been famous hunter in his day, but had
recently been famed by severe fall.
Riding was out Of the question for him,
and he had never allowed anyone else to
mount Black Eagle But there were
six besides Dave who had entered their
names as competitors and among them
was Rob Hartley, who lived with his
old mother way up on themountain side,
and whose only steed was a decrepit
white mule, which could be goaded into
pace faster than walk only at the
cost of unceasing labor with a stout
cudgel.
Dave, walking Judy slowly down the
mountain path, laughed as he thought of
the ridiculous figure Rob would cut on
old Obed, and wondered what the boy
could be thinking of, and if he under
stood what tournament was
But his laugh died abruptly away as
sudden turn in the path brought him al
most upon a little clearing in the vast
stretch of dark, uninhabited forest, in
the middle of which stood little log
cabin of two rooms, divided by a wide
entry.
1t was Rob's home, and his mother
forlorn figure in her coarse, homespun
dress, Stat sun-bonnet, and cowhide
shoes leaned over the rail fence, bucket
in her hand
1t seemed to Dave that shadow fell
across her face as she saw him, and her
voice quivered as she asked if he were
going to the tournament.
''Rob heared Yesterday as how ye'd
give it up" she said.
~ amt he'd no thought O. sech a
thing, answered Dave. II want ter
know how it feels to have twenty-five
dollars in my pocket" The woman
drew long, deep breath.
'It's all up with Rob, then, " she said
in a low, despairing tone. 'TWhen he
heared you'd pulled out he got the
promise O. Sam Breens horse n he made
sure O. the prize. Mercy knows we need
it bad enough. But Rob- he amt the
rider you be. He won't stand no chance
now"
She turned abruptly and went into the
cabin, closing the door of the kitchen
behind her. And Dave, no longer in a
CHEEKY mood, rode on again, per-
picked look on his honest, sunburned
face.
IT amt called on ter give it up-it's
too much to ask We uns need the
money, too, he muttered.
Then he remembered that when he
run rake prong into his foot, Rob's
mother had toiled up to Mandy's cabin
every day to dress the wound, and had
torn up the only piece of fine muslin she
possessed to make bandages. And years
ago when he had been left motherless,
with no one to care for him save asister,
only few years older than himself, Mrs
Hartley had given him food and shelter